


Chatting up Camonna Tong

by ciderConnoisseur



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 05:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11548545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ciderConnoisseur/pseuds/ciderConnoisseur
Summary: The tale of an outlander struggling to follow the destiny he never chose, and the unlikely friend he finds in an alcoholic gangster.





	Chatting up Camonna Tong

Another outlander Dunmer skulking in the streets of Balmora.

Velyn is sitting on the stairs next to the Council Club, guarding the entrance, drinking his sujamma and watching him from afar. You really can't miss them. The way they walk, looking behind themselves every few steps, casting glances and avoiding looking anyone in the eyes. You don't even need to hear their exaggerated, obviously Imperial accent or hear their chirpy voices, untainted by years of ash accumulation. There's something about these pale, innocent Dunmer that makes him uncomfortable for some reason. Might be the fact that they're so different. Almost childlike in their ignorance. These starry-eyed boys that stop dead in their tracks when they come across a member of the Camonna Tong, like this one just did. He’s a few meters away, avoiding Velyn's gaze from atop his bottle of sujamma. He tries to play it off and walk past the club like he’s not scared.

-Bit late to be wandering around, isn’t it… _outlander_?

He stops again and looks over, obviously startled.

-I was… actually looking where to get a drink – he stammers, his voice cracking some halfway through the sentence. Velyn stands up to get a closer look at him. The outlander is kind of skinny and slightly shorter than him, with an iron dagger and some clothes that look like he just got out of prison. _Wouldn’t be surprised if that was true, too. Most likely a druggie._

-I’m not a tour guide, f’lah. Why don’t you ask your friends? Better yet. Why don’t you tell me what you’re _really_ looking for? – Velyn doesn't avert his gaze from the kid's pale face.

-C-Caius Cosades – he mutters _. This just got way easier_. Cosades is another outlander, a skooma addict to boot. _This guy is probably one of those that sell for a bit of moon sugar. Balmora’s full of them these days._ Velyn casually takes out his dagger and starts playing with it. It doesn’t mean anything other than pointing out who’s in charge here, but the outlander's discomfort is now tangible.

-Yeah, I know him. I’ll tell you where he lives… for a price, of course. – Velyn says darkly, getting a bit closer to the outlander. His discomfort is for a good reason; if he were to get attacked, he couldn’t fend off the attack with either his cheap iron dagger or his common clothes, _since the idiot apparently can’t be bothered to put some armor on_.

-I'm sorry... I don't have any money. – It’s a bold-faced lie. The kid knows full well he's got at least 100 gold pieces weighing down his small bag, but he also knows he's in an unknown land. He could feel the gazes of the natives on him from the moment he stepped off the ship, and he's smart enough to put two and two together and figure out he's sticking out like a sore thumb. And if Imperial prison taught him anything, it's to not stick out. He was planning to use this gold to get some armor, a normal weapon, maybe spread it around a bit. The last thing on his mind is to hand it over to some _drunk creep_ in a dark alley.

-Don't fucking lie to me and hand over your cash – Velyn raises his voice, and in retaliation, the crappy iron dagger gets pulled. Before the kid has a chance to stick it in his ribs, he grabs his wrist and twists it. The outlander yelps in pain, dropping the dagger to the floor. With a speed unexpected from a drunk man, Velyn holds his own blade to the kid’s ashy, scrawny neck, staring him down.

-Let me go, _n’wah_ – the skinny lad says in his best impersonation of how a _real_ Dunmer should talk.

\- _Give me the fucking money._ – Velyn presses down on the kid’s neck, only slightly, not enough to cause any serious damage, but enough to break the skin. A small stream of blood trickles from his neck and drips down on the floor, followed by a mortified gasp from the outlander.

-Okay! Okay. Just... take it! – he fumbles with the pouch for a second and throws fifty gold pieces at Velyn, hoping with every fiber of his being the tall, dark man won’t hear the rest of the money jingling in his bag. The grip on his arm loosens and Velyn’s blade withdraws from his neck.

-Pleasure doing business with you. – The grin in his voice is audible. – And about Cosades... other side of the river. Ask around in the South Wall Cornerclub. Can’t miss it. Everyone knows him.

The outlander freezes up and looks at Velyn with an expression of disbelief. For a second he looks like he’s about to say something, but then he looks away, stammers a small _thanks_ and makes a beeline for the bridge. Velyn chuckles to himself as he goes inside the Club to get himself another sujamma and finish the rest of his guard shift.

Half an hour later, as he's drunkenly staring somewhere far away behind the silt strider, he wonders to himself if he’ll ever see the skinny guy again.


End file.
